Все главы In the Name of the Sacred Tree: Глава 1 - Глава 10

BEATS, boobs, and booze!Yeah, that is all you need to liberate your madness. And that was exactly what I did--got drunk in the middle of four lustful women. Possessed by the house music beats, they were insisting to give me a lap dance, while I wanted them to just get naked.Oh, look! Those chicks were playing their best duck face as if ready to eat my banana. What a spirit! Please be gentle ladies. This wild par

I WAS very excited about going to campus. I dared myself to step closer to the Faculty of Letters gate. Somewhat far ahead, I could see a group of girls coming to campus in droves. They laughed out loud. I did not know what the rumors they were talking about.At the faculty gate, I saw a pack of wild males

THIS Dharma Hoover Street was as congested as ever. Apart from being located in the center of Surabaya City, the Dharma Hoover block was flanked by three giant infrastructures, namely the Dr. Sue Thompson Regional Hospital, Airlangga University, and Dharma Hoover's elite real estate complex. Cars, buses, motorbikes, pedicabs, and students, crowded this area.Then, my eyes caught something interesting. I saw a black Toyota Avanza parked under a yellow tabebuia tree. Perhaps because of their contrast color,--black and yellow--my attention was drawn to it. But, there were no activities there.

ALL my way back to Certajava, I dreamed of singing a love song in the rain for Julia. From behind the window, Julia greeted my chant with her Indian dance. Really hypnotized until I am not aware, I almost arrived at Brother Laymisch's coffee stall. From a distance, I saw a group of people laughing there.My father ever told me the nowadays people, who lived in Certajava and Wigan are the descendants of the elders who experts in 'silat'--traditional martial arts--and boxing.My father himself was not a native of Surabaya but was born in Yogyakarta, Central Java Province. He served as an Indonesia National Army personnel. My father was a captain and currently on duty in Papua. He rarely came home, even once a year. My family was sincerely let him go to carry out his mission of the state. Keeping the peace, my father ever said. Yes, there was still indeed a separatist conflict in Papua.Rumors also said that Wigan-Certajava was a place for outcast people in the pas

THE next day, I woke up. I felt this head heavy. Very sick, dizzy, and nauseous. I felt like I want to sleep again. But I could not. Bolster to the left hurts to the right was the same. I must have drunk too much last night.My eyes then landed on an old man in a white turban with bushy white sideburns. His forefinger pointed up as if he is giving me a bit of advice to not be drunk. He was not Gandalf, but Ayatollah Khomeini, the leader of the Iranian revolution. Next to him, there was a silhouette of Che Guevara, the hero of the Cuban revolution.